Morals
by mr.a305
Summary: A look at McCree's time within Blackwatch, from training with Reyes up to the recall, and possibly afterwards, as well as his relationships within the organisation. Slow pace but it's my first fic, so I'll be taking my sweet time for updates with this one. Rated M for swearing and just maybe eventual smut. If you do read this, constructive criticism would be a massive help.
1. Beginnings

Morals

Jesse Mcree found himself in the training ring with Gabriel Reyes at six in the morning, yet again. A swift jab to the face quickly put an end to his thoughts of sleep and warmth though. "Jeez boss, you really want to wake me up this morning don't ya." Jesse said with his typical southern drawl. "Shut up and focus Mcree!" was the gravelly response from Reyes, who had been mentoring Jesse within Blackwatch for a year now. He ended the sentence with a flurry of jabs and a swift uppercut, all of which Mcree barely stumbled away from. Being fully awake now, Mcree went on the counter attack, sending a hard jab, powerful hook and blistering uppercut to Reyes, only for them to be blocked ease. "You may punch hard Mcree, but you gotta work on your speed. What's the point in being able to punch so hard if you're never going to land them?" Before Mcree knew it, he was being flipped over by Reyes and the fight ended with Mcree in an arm lock. 'Damn it!' Mcree thought to himself.

An hour later, Reyes was standing idly by whilst sipping a can of lemonade, Mcree was running laps of the Gibraltar base that he'd become so familiar with. Every lap he passed the dinner hall, where he saw everyone else from both Overwatch and Blackwatch sitting down eating breakfast. It smelt tantalisingly good, a full English breakfast. 'If I'd had any, it sure as hell wouldn't still be in my stomach.' Mcree thought to himself while seeing Lena wave at him through the crystal clear window. 'She must halfway through her second breakfast by now.' Mcree thought to himself while jogging slowly by. He was approaching the target Reyes had set for him, "50 laps before eight am and you get breakfast". If not all he got was some lousy cereal bar and a bottle of water. Mcree knew he could do it today, and since he'd never managed it in the year he'd been here, he damn near sprinted the rest of the two laps.

Lena had since finished her mammoth meal and decided to join Reyes. She saw Jesse come around the corner for the final 200 metre straight. He had a minute and a half left on the clock. She started to cheer loud enough for Mcree to hear her from the remaining 100 metres. Suddenly, she realised that time was running out "10, 9" she started to yell, and Mcree started to dash forward with all the energy he could muster after 49 laps of hard running. "8, 7" He was so close, he could see people's faces in the dinner hall as he sped by. "6, 5" He caught a glimpse of little Fareeha, bless the girl; punch her arm in the air as her mother looked on, as neutral as Switzerland. "4, 3" He could see the surprise on Reyes face. He knew exactly what was going through his head – 'He might actually do this!' "2, 1" He was still five metres away, 'There's only one thing for it' Mcree dove as far as he could, over the finish line, and came up out of it in a forward roll.

Lena went ballistic. "YES JESSE!" she screamed before jumping on his shoulders, which promptly made Mcree tip over, he was that tired. Mcree wanted to thank Lena for her support, but was breathless. As Lena clambered off of him, she said with her typical eagerness: "Well Gabe, he did it!" after Reyes shot her a withering look, "right?" Reyes took a sip of Lemonade before finally saying "Well, that roll was a little unorthodox but I guess it'll do" Mcree was finally able to relax. He'd done it! He could finally have a nice warm breakfast and shower with the rest of the agents! After a couple of minutes spent getting his breath back, he got up and went to the showers.

After a brief spell in warm, wet bliss – he got out and dressed himself in his usual attire, cowboy hat, BAMF belt, poncho, trousers and obviously, his peacekeeper and her holster. He entered the mess hall with a massive grin on his face, and bowed at the cheers of all the familiar faces, as well as a few people he hadn't met yet. Everyone rushed up to greet him, but Reinhardt got to him first, which meant Mcree got the inevitable bear hug. However when Fareeha jumped upon the German giant's shoulders, he let go and gave her the space she needed to greet anyone when it was their first time in the mess hall. She stepped in front of him and proudly announced to everyone in the room "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the one and only Jesse Mcree!" After the applause had died down, Jesse was finally able to say "Thanking you for the warm reception folks, but I really need some grub." "We saved some just for you!" was the response from Fareeha. And so, for the first time in his year at Overwatch, Jesse Mcree sat down to some breakfast.

All of a sudden, the doors of the mess hall slammed open and in came none other than Jack Morrison, commander of Overwatch and a massive pain in the ass, or at least according to Reyes. Mcree had never met him before, so raised an eyebrow when he yelled "All Overwatch agents to the practice range, we have a big mission coming up and we need to make sure we're on top form in terms of accuracy and fitness. Dutifully, everyone apologised to Mcree for having to let him eat alone, and then left for the practice range. 'If I was anything but accurate and fit, Reyes would have my ass quicker than a Mare with an itchy leg.' Mcree thought to himself. His communicator buzzed, and showed a message from Reyes. It read: Morrison has us doing the hard work again so his pals can have it easy in their 'big' mission. Meet at the practice range in ten for briefing. 'Odd, we normally brief in the conference room.' Nonetheless Mcree shovelled the rest of the warm bacon into his mouth and followed on after his friends in Overwatch.

Mcree entered the range and lined up with all the other Blackwatch agents, who were all confused as to why they were in the same room as all the Overwatch agents. After a few stragglers came in, Lena one of them, the three leaders of Overwatch formed at the head of the room. "As you may or may not know - there has been a terrorist attack in London by the extremist Omnic group Null Sector." Morrison stated. Lena audibly gasped, and Mercy - or Doc as Mcree knew her - put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "We need to put together a strike team to go and liberate King's Row, and this training session will decide who goes". Mcree noticed Lena looking more filled with determination than he'd ever seen her, and he could understand why. Her hometown was being attacked, so naturally she wanted to defend it. Mcree knew the feeling from some turf wars back in his deadlock days. They were just bad memories to him now. By now Morrison had finished his piece and it was time for Reyes to step in and deliver the briefing. "Now, four Overwatch agents will make up the initial strike team, and a Blackwatch agent will be on hand if they are needed." Torbjorn lost his temper at this and shouted "Are you saying that one Blackwatch agent is worth four Overwatch agents?!" At this Reinhardt knelt down to Torbjorn's level and gently said something that instantly calmed the Swedish engineer down. "What did you say?" asked Reyes. Reinhardt muttered something about telling him later, and the situation was defused. "Anyway, you will be tested on your abilities to shoot accurately and use your abilities to the best of your, err, ability." Mcree shook his head at the awful pun.

"Alright, Overwatch agents will be tested first, so Lena, on your marks, get set, go!" said Ana enthusiastically. Lena blinked around the range, her pulse pistols dumping munitions into the training bots. When she got hit by a stray bullet, she recalled, gaining her health back. After blinking around the bots so much, they all got confused and bunched together. This was the perfect time for her Pulse Bomb. Less than two seconds later all of the bots were just pieces of scrap. "Great performance Lena" congratulated Morrison.

Reinhardt went next, Shielding friendly bots from incoming fire, and launching firestrikes at enemy bots when they were reloading. If a bot got too close, it was crushed beneath the power of his rocket hammer. 'I wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of that' thought most of the people in the room, even Reyes. Eventually, the enemy grouped up to launch a massive attack against the shield, but before they could even start, Reinhardt bellowed "Hammer Down!" and struck the ground with all his force, stunning the bots. He went on to firestrike the bots and then charge down the ones with the most health.

Mcree then left the range to find some ammo for his peacekeeper, and by the time he returned, it was a fellow Blackwatch agents turn. Some Asian fellow that got chopped up by his brother and rescued by doc, only to be enhanced like a cyborg to now work for Blackwatch. Mcree was in no way envious of the guy's position. The man, if you could call him that, was jumping around like a madman, until he got his sword out and started chopping everything like it was sushi. That was all Mcree saw, but everyone else seemed stunned, with the exception of Reyes and Doc. The Doc left with him, to perform some, tests and analysis as she called it.

And then it was his turn. "Mcree!" barked Reyes. He walked calmly up to the range, heart thudding in his chest. He knew that his reputation depended on this, so he visualised the bullets flying into the training bots, reducing them to the buckets of bolts that they were. He wanted to maintain his record of perfect accuracy, but needed to improve his headshot: shots fired ratio. The room held its breath as Morrison counted down... "Ready, set, Go!" Mcree drew his peacekeeper quicker than Clint Eastwood himself, and firing from the hip, hit two perfect headshots on the first two bots. He moved on to take out some more bots, rolling away from gunfire and utilising his flashbang if one got the jump on him. As he drew to the end of the simulation, he saw several bots strung out across the range, each at different distance. He reloaded his peacekeeper, and yelled in his rich, smooth voice "Its high noon" after about 5 seconds, the peacekeeper flashed six times, and all of the remaining bots fell instantaneously.

He blew the smoke from the peacekeeper, and walked calmly back to his fellow Blackwatch agents. Everyone from Overwatch was astounded, but everyone from Blackwatch had seen it before. It was only when Reyes asked for the stats that truly everyone's jaw dropped.

Accuracy: 100%

Headshot to Shots Fired ratio: 100%

Shots fired: 15

Damage Taken: 0

That was when Reyes decided to give the job to Mcree. Upon seeing the results Mcree donned his biggest shit eating grin and said "Sharpest eye in the west" Lena shouted "As well as the bloody North, South and East, Jesus Jesse!" Morrison quickly summarised the briefing: "Alright, so the strike team consists of Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Angela and Lena. Mcree will be there if anything goes sour, and we depart tomorrow at dawn. Good luck everyone.


	2. Null Sector Part 1

McCree made sure he slept well last night. His joints were still aching slightly from the 30 lap run he managed before bed. But here it was, his time to shine with the real Overwatch! Needless to say he was excited; if things went well for him it could mean great things for him within the organisation. What he didn't let show was a slight tinge of nervousness for Lena, or Tracer, as she liked to be called. It was her first mission after all, but whereas anyone else would be trying to psyche themselves up, all McCree could see in her eyes was pure determination. In his head all he could see was Lena blinking way too far ahead, getting separated from the protection of Reinhardt, Torbjorn and Doc, and getting surrounded without a hope of escape.

He shook his head. He needed to start thinking more positively, which ironically was the first piece of advice Lena herself gave to him. McCree was travelling in a separate ship to Manchester, before getting the train down to London. 'I never did like trains,' he thought to himself 'I can just tell something bad is gonna happen on one somewhere, someday.' He approached the Strike team, and received friendly smiles from everyone but Torbjorn, who scowled at him. "Good luck today fella's, hopefully you won't be needing my assistance". Reinhardt agreed with him, while Lena said with a steely resolve "Cheers love, but I want to take care of this one myself." McCree quickly replied with "Whoa there! If you go out on your own, you'll be massacred in seconds. Don't take offense to that, but you aren't exactly experienced or able to take more bullets than big guy's shield, are you?" Lena let out a grump, but thought about it for less than a second before realising he was right. "Yeah, I guess" was the downtrodden reply.

McCree let out a laugh. That was exactly what Fareeha had said when he told her that he couldn't watch her Tae Kwon Doe exam from London. "It's time," said Morrison over the comms, "good luck everyone." McCree climbed into the one man, remotely flown ship. He had faith in Winston to get him there safely and quickly. 'Bit cramped' he thought to himself, but he knew that he'd been in worse situations before. Like when he was captured in a Blackwatch raid.

He had been in his room at the start of the raid, dozing off for an afternoon siesta as the folks south of the border called it. It all happened at once after that. Someone sounded the alarm, but that wasn't what woke McCree. It was the sound of C4 blowing up the building next to his. All of a sudden McCree was glad that he'd been given the most derelict looking shack in town. There were no houses in Deadlock Gorge. Agents surrounded the town, and he could already hear gunfire from his fellow gang members being exchanged with rapid bursts of staccato. 'M16's, old school' he was never without his gear, so when he was headed downstairs he was surprised when he bumped into an agent. Evidently he was as well, by the stunned look on his face. McCree had the quicker reactions, and with a quick right hook the man was rolling back down the stairs unconscious. He always tried to avoid killing when he could, but he had been forced to several times. The memories haunted his nightmares.

Taking a look outside, he saw a squadron of soldiers flanking his buddies. He sprinted to some higher ground, lined up his first shot with a soldiers arm, and the Peacekeeper's familiar Bark sounded once again. He quickly dispatched of the other soldiers with the five rounds left, each with a shot to a limb. Making a quick decision, he decided to carry on round the high ground and flank whoever it was attacking them. As he turned the corner however, he could see that there was another flanking team that had taken out seemingly all of his gang. They'd been pincered. Upon seeing that he was the only one left, he turned and fled. He made his way through the tunnels that no-one other than the gang knew about. He rounded a corner, only to have Mike Tyson land his hardest punch right in his solar plexus. It was a miracle that he was conscious. He'd fallen on his back, the hat flying clean off his head. It was more of a reflex for McCree to reach for it and immediately pull it firmly on, only afterwards did he the tips of two shotguns directly at his head. "Give me one good reason for me not to blast your head off, deadlock scum" the order came from a gravelly voice, one instantly recognisable to those who knew who it was. Unfortunately for McCree, he didn't, so he simply took his hat off his head and said "If yer going ta kill me, please don't bloody my hat" he paused, and looked up to see his killers face "that and I'm the only deadlock left, we're a dyin' breed" one thing McCree would remember for the rest of his life, even though he'd never see it again, was Gabriel Reyes looking surprised.

A jolt woke him. The ship had landed. 'Guess I didn't sleep as well as I first thought' he thought to himself.

Drearily getting out of the ship, he sent a message to Winston saying he was on the ground, and heading to the train station. Luckily it was only a 15 minute walk from the airport, and before he knew it he was on one of those dreaded metal boxes known as trains. He looked about him, a young couple sat across from him, both trying and failing not to stare at his appearance. He smirked to himself, imagining how their jaws would drop if they saw him in his Blackwatch gear. Other than being stared at, the ride was uneventful. He got out at Kings Cross station, about 5 minutes away from the actual area of Kings Row. He seemed to be the only one headed towards the area; in fact, whole crowds of people were heading back towards the station, although that was to be expected. It was, after all, the fourth busiest station in London.

He arrived at the Tube station where the strike team would start their mission. Upon seeing the amount of Null Sector omnics that lay between him and the entrance of the power station that he was supposed to be stationed at, he decided that it would be best if he made his way there stealthily. He climbed up to the roof of the houses using a drainpipe and some handholds in the chipped brickwork. It was simple from here; make his way along the rooftops until he got to the upper floor of the power plant, and then wait for the sound of Reinhardt crushing anything and everything to a pulp to listen for instructions from either Jack or Reyes.


	3. Null Sector Part 2

After about 5 hours, McCree awoke not to Reinhardt, but to a hissing static coming from his comm. It pierced his ears, causing him to jolt upright from the position he had laid himself down in – on his back – only to see the dead atmosphere of a deserted Kings Row. Fiddling with the comm, he made the horrible static cease, and reset the frequency back to the channel with the strike team and the 3 commanders in it.

After about 5 minutes of sitting around, gathering his senses, McCree heard the voice of the Strike Commander over the comm. He had taken it out of his ear, it had been bothering him to no end, and he really needed to scratch that itch. He immediately regretted not putting it back afterwards however, as he had just missed Morrison's briefing. As he slipped it back in, all he caught was Morrison saying "Alright, good luck team." Cursing to himself, he started to listen for their approach. They had to deactivate three anti aircraft guns before going into the main power station and clearing the extremists inside.

Keeping most of his focus on the comms, he thought the mission was going swimmingly so far. He could make out Doc worrying over Lena and Ana telling Reinhardt not to charge in on his own. McCree hazarded a guess that he just wouldn't be able to resist. It was proven right when he felt the railing that he was on shudder, and large booms come from a few blocks away. He readied his peacekeeper and made way for the small army of omnics that the four were expected to defeat. To his surprise, McCree could hear a loud metal clunking in the house from which he had jumped to the railing. The omnic inside reached the top floor, spotted him and raised its energy rifle. McCree jumped to the roof of the house and waited for the omnic to come out of the stairwell leading up. Positioning himself to the side of the door leading out, McCree brought out a flashbang. As he saw the purple metal edge past the doorway, he flung it toward the omnic's head. Bringing up the peacekeeper while it was stunned, he levelled the revolver and fired once. The omnic's head sparked and fizzed with electricity, before it fell to the ground dead.

The strike team had heard the shot, and Mercy asked sternly over the comm "Are you alright McCree?" "Yup, one of 'em decided to take the scenic route before coming to see ya, and ran right into me. You guys have a small army comin' too see ya, so prepare yourselves" The third anti aircraft gun was 75% complete in its hack, according to McCree's HUD. Just before he was about to turn and head toward the power station, he heard Lena scream. His heart suddenly thudded in his chest. What had happened to her? Was she ok? The comm practically screamed in his ear "Heroes never die!" McCree let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. 'Quit worryin' he told himself 'Never does you any good'. He knew that the whole team was fine in the hands of the doc, so he made his way to the power station.

Less than half an hour later, McCree saw the team approach the power station with the payload. Torbjorn's turret sat atop it, with Reinhardt scouting ahead. Doc was boosting Lena, who was pumping out damage from behind the shield. 'Glad to see she took my advice' he thought to himself. The payload was brought to a stop outside the stations main doors after the team had successfully dealt with some Bastions and Eradicators. 'Blimey, didn't think I'd see one of those big mean bastards in the flesh' All of a sudden, the payload started to wobble and shake, slowly turning a golden yellow. Before they knew it, the strike team had been blown back, and Torbjorn's turret was gone. "My baby!" he cried, before realising that he could build another in a matter of seconds. Meanwhile, the team was greeted by an OR-14 and several Bastions in their stationary turret form.

Reinhardt immediately put his shield up, and decided – understandably - to call on McCree for assistance. Jumping down and greeting the team with a trademark "Howdy" he got to work from behind the translucent barrier. Pumping lead into the OR-14 felt good, and he swore he could have heard a ding as the picked it off with a headshot. Lena had gone with Mercy to take care of a Bastion to their right. Torbjorn had gone on his own to find a suitable place to build a turret. Reinhardt was clearly worried about his Scandinavian friend, and wanted to get this whole thing over and done with. They turned a corner, to be greeted with a sight that nearly made McCree shit himself.

At least two turreted Bastions, two tank Bastions, several eradicators and another two OR-14's. Reinhardt wasn't even fazed by the sight, but he'd served in the crisis, and survived. Out of nowhere Torbjorn screamed and a red marker appeared on the HUD. The tank bastion fired twice over Reinhardt's shield, and Lena, then Mercy, screamed. Two more red markers appeared on the HUD. "Shield me while I revive Doc and Lena!" McCree practically screamed at the poor giant who was taking heavy fire. "Shield is at half capacity!" the big man roared back "Ha Ha, I live for a fight like this! BRING! IT! ON!" Mcree brought a syringe and some bandages from under his hat. He snatched the top off of it, and turned the unconscious Doc over, finding the biggest, bluest vein in her neck was relatively easy, but bandaging her wounded leg wasn't. He gently slapped the doc, and thankfully she woke up.

The first thing she saw was McCree's nervous face, and then Reinhardt's cracked shield. "Lena and Torbjorn are down, can you work your magic?" was all she got as an explanation. Reinhardt yelled "Get to cover!" and all three of them managed to dive into a stairwell. "How long till the shield is back up?" McCree asked "30 seconds" was the response. Peeking around the corner to the bots, he let off firestrikes that tore eradicators in half. An agonizing thirty seconds seemed to stretch for an eternity. Shockingly, Reinhardt jumped out into the open and started to march forward. Doc flew over to him, and McCree rolled to catch up. She yelled at the top of her voice "My servants never die!" Torbjorn sprinted as fast as he could toward the safety of Reinhardt's shield, and Lena blinked over to McCree. "My pulse bomb is ready!" she cried. Torbjorn and Reinhardt also prepared their ultimate abilities. Torbjorn plonked down a turret and cried "Molten Core!" Reinhardt ran up to a group of omnics and shouted "Hammer Down!" Tracer then blinked over to the stunned enemies and plonked her bomb down in the middle of them. That combo took out an OR-14, eradicator and the tank bastion.

While all of this was going on, McCree tracked back and climbed up to some high ground. He waited for the others to group up again before letting his voice growl the familiar words whilst targeting the heads of his enemies. "Its high noon" the peacekeeper let out a rapid bark of staccato, and the remaining bastions, OR-14, eradicators and something else broke apart. "Aw, come on lad, that's my turret!" yelled Torbjorn. McCree let out a small "sorry pal" while surveying the area for any more null sector bots.

Mercy had let the commanders know that the mission was a success, and they all realised that they had a train ride back to Manchester. Lena couldn't stop laughing at the sight of Reinhardt trying to climb into the tiny metal box. It was only once they were all in the dropship that McCree truly relaxed. He ended up smoking a cigar and playing card games with Reinhardt and Torbjorn, much to the doc's disapproval.


	4. Missing

McCree slept like a log that night. He awoke early, as his daily training started at 6:00. He entered the hall that contained the training ring and gym, only to find it deserted. 'Odd, Reyes is normally halfway through a workout before anyone else is awake.' He waited for Reyes to turn up for five minutes, before heading back towards the mess hall. As he was striding to the other end of the base, he passed the entrance to the medical wings, and saw Doc already halfway through a stack of paperwork bigger than his arm. He decided to head in, and provide a somewhat necessary distraction. 'No-one can do that much paperwork in a morning; she must have been there all night'. He stopped for a minute before heading in, admiring her features. Her flowing blond hair was hidden in a bun, which was a damn shame in McCree's opinion; her ice blue eyes didn't have their normal kindness, a side effect of over-working.

He headed through the clear automatic doors into the med bay, and upon seeing no-one at the receptionists desk, knocked twice and strode into the room marked: 'Dr A. Ziegler'. "Howdy doc" said McCree in his southern drawl. The Swiss genius didn't even look up from her paperwork. "Doc." Still no response "Doc!" he said forcefully, while gently gripping her shoulders. She felt frail in his strong, worn hands. "Ah, McCree, is there a problem?" he could detect the forced happiness and energy in her voice like bat could detect its prey. "You're overworking yerself doc, that's the problem" "Nonsense, I just need to do..." she quickly looked at a number at the top of the form she was filling "a hundred and fifty more forms and then I can rest." McCree responded sharply with "It's 9 past 6 doc, you've been here all night. As a result, I'm not letting yer look at any paper or patients till you've gotten yer rest." She looked mortified at the prospect of not being able to work, and the expression on her face was making McCree feel guilty. "Besides, what's so important 'bout these papers anyway?" McCree questioned. "They're insurance forms to make sure that the whole med bay is legal to practice medicine in" said the medic, the tiredness in her voice finally showing through.

"Look doc, you already work yourself too much, but don't ya have a whole team under you?" McCree asked. "Yes, what does that matter?" "So you've been doing over 300 forms all by your lonesome and ya don't even think to split it with ya team. For someone so smart, its hard t' believe you'd forget something like that." She sighed. "You're right McCree; I've been working so hard that I've lost my edge. Come on, we're going in the same direction after all." He let her lead the way, but stopped outside the mess hall. "This is my stop Doc." He told her "Go get yer rest." As he entered the mess hall, he was greeted with an incredulous look from Reinhardt, Torbjorn and Tracer. "What?" he asked, unsure why everyone was staring at him with raised eyebrows "That was Angela outside, right? Or did I just imagine it?" asked Tracer. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand" Reinhardt decided to explain the situation to the cowboy. "Angela was last in this building two weeks ago, Jesse. We have all tried to convince her to leave her work, and get her to come back so she can sleep and socialize. All they got was a 'No rest for the wicked!' when I said I would carry her out myself, she gave me a look more heart-melting than a puppy's. I couldn't bring myself to do it." While Reinhardt was explaining all this, Ana and Jack had walked in and had taken a keen interest in the conversation. "But you seem to have done it without a seconds thought. What's your secret?"

McCree simply shook his head and said "A gentleman never tells, y'all know that" he sat down on a bench as Torbjorn and Tracer went to go and get their morning meal. "But I actually came here to ask you guys something. Where the hell is Reyes?" at this, Jack and Ana exchanged a glance, before she said "We're wondering the same thing. If you haven't seen him, maybe we should do a base wide scan to make sure he's ok." As they turned to leave, both McCree and Reinhardt followed. "If y'all don't know where my boss is, I'm sure as hell helpin' ya find him" Despite his inhumane training regime, McCree had actually bonded rather well with Reyes. However, the one thing that always set them apart was their taste in alcohol. McCree was a whisky man, through and through - whereas Reyes preferred bourbon. 'How he drinks that stuff I'll never know' McCree thought.

They got to the base's main computer terminal, and initiated the scan. Reyes was nowhere on the base. "Damnit!" McCree yelled, now we've got to go find him. Ana was already a step ahead of him, and made a worldwide scan on the computer. A red dot blinked on the 3D map, around the Falkland Islands. "Why in God's name is he out there?" questioned Jack. "Get your gear and meet at the hangar. Is it ok for you to look after things here Ana?" "No problem, just get Gabe back safe". McCree snickered, if his boss had heard her call him that, he'd be livid. 'Better file that one away for later' McCree thought to himself while shouldering his way through the black chest plate of his Blackwatch gear. He was second in the hangar, and both he and Jack had to wait a further 15 minutes for Reinhardt to arrive, but the sheer weight and size of his armour more than compensated by way of an explanation.

They made their way to a light carrier, armed with a heavy machine gun, and climbed in. The pilots had already been briefed, so all that was left to do before the mission was take off and for Morrison to brief his team. McCree felt the familiar acceleration, rumbling and sudden calmness that came with a takeoff, so he waited for Morrison to speak up. "Alright, so from some satellite imagery all we know is that he's in an abandoned warehouse on the only industrial estate on the island. The reason it's there is because the Brits tried to rescue a failing economy by building new facilities and upgrading old ones. It was a waste of cash, to be frank, and the whole scheme went bust after 5 years. That was in 2026. It's a miracle the whole place is still standing, so expect old tech, lots of iron railings and even more dust and cobwebs." McCree grunted in response, while Reinhardt asked "Well why is Reyes there in the first place?" "Your guess is as good as mine" Jack replied. "Anyway, Reinhardt will breach the factory doors with his charge, and we'll follow in behind his shield, mopping up anything dumb enough to fire at us. Clear?" McCree and Reinhardt responded accordingly, before they sat down and left each other to their own thoughts.

Pulling out a cigarette, McCree couldn't help but worry. 'What if it's an ambush? What if Reinhardt breaches only for us to be pincered like my gang was back in the day? What if...' His thoughts were interrupted by a loud beep, signalling that they were landing. They touched down about 250 yards from the industrial estate, and before they made their way inside, Jack pointed out the warehouse that Reyes was supposed to be in. Jogging the distance to the warehouse, Reinhardt charged ahead. The sound of his impact with the factory door could be heard from all over the island. The door made an unnerving creaking sound, before falling slowly to the ground, and making a second boom, that echoed around the estate. He then brought up his light blue shield, illuminating the warehouse in its lights. Morrison and McCree followed behind, before Reinhardt stood stock still, a gasp leaving his mouth.

There he was. The man they'd hunted down tied to a chair. Bruised, beaten and battered by some crude torture device. He was barely conscious. He was drenched in sweat, with blood leaking from his temples, nose, mouth and chin. His leg was bending the wrong way, and it made McCree cringe at the sight. There was no way it wasn't broken. They advanced through the warehouse, and upon finding it seemingly deserted, Morrison began to cut Reyes free. "Morrison?" he rasped, his voice still hoarse from screaming. Reinhardt was shielding them both, looking back at the way they'd come in. McCree had decided to scout ahead, due to his earlier paranoia. 'Good fuckin' job I did' he thought to himself as he sprinted back to the trio. "There's a whole fuckin' platoon comin' in!" McCree yelled. "Rein, me and Morrison will drag Reyes to a corner. Shield us from there, and they have to be in our line of sight to attack us." Both Reinhardt and Morrison complied with his tactics, and soon they found themselves cornered, surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned. One thing they definitely weren't; was afraid.

For about thirty seconds, there was a silent standoff. Morrison called out "Who are you?" and a voice responded "Doesn't matter". "Fine, don't do it the peaceful way!" Morrison yelled before launching helix rockets at a group of three soldiers. They flew from the direct impact, and landed on the floor dead. They returned fire, fully automatic pulse rounds flying into Reinhardt's shield. One of the lobbed a grenade at the shield, but it bounced off and rebounded towards them. Another soldier caught the flying grenade, and looked up at the man who threw it, a look of panic on his face before he disappeared in an explosion. McCree started doing what he did best, Hitting headshots. However, he was fuelled with so much rage, that he didn't care that he was killing anymore. Morals be damned. One after another, the enemy fell. The bark of the peacekeeper sounded a sweet song to McCree's ears, and when the time came, he knew. He yelled out, "It's high noon!" and a cluster of 6 enemies fell instantaneously. Reinhardt's shield began to rack, and he yelled "I can't take much more of this!" About a quarter of the original force remained, and they had enough sense to turn and flee for their lives.


	5. Forbidden feelings

The team waited behind the safety of Reinhardt before they were certain that their attackers were gone, and even then, McCree carried Reyes all the way back to the ship with peacekeeper in hand. It was a miracle that Reyes managed to keep on his shoulder, but all the tossing and turning as McCree walked prevented him from losing consciousness. Morrison stalked by, still on edge. When they got to the ship, McCree laid a groaning Reyes on a table, while the pilots got them back to Gibraltar as fast as they could.

The flight was a blur to McCree, all he did was look, staring at the unconscious Reyes' face. His commander, mentor and the damn near best he had for a father. He didn't let it show, his face was stone, but he was hurting inside. He had heard Winston say that Overwatch was his family, but until now he had dismissed it. Yet now he truly agreed that his family was the organisation he worked for. He felt like he was going to lose a loved one, and it was tearing him up.

The second they landed however, he spurred into action. He carried Reyes to the Doc (who had returned to the medical wing) he, refusing help from anyone else. When he got to her, all he said was "He's hurt bad, doc. Please fix him up. Do what ya do best". Then he walked out, and headed straight for his quarters.

When he locked the door, he turned around to get out a bottle of whiskey before he remembered to say "Athena, could ya turn off the surveillance cameras in my room please" "It is against protocol to stop surveillance at any ti-" "Just do it Athena, you know how much I hate being watched. Besides, it ain't like I'm going anywhere" He heard a click that signified the cameras being turned off before he poured a glass and downed it. He repeated this three times, before he let a tear shed his eye. Goddamn, it'd been a long time since he'd last cried. The sensation of wobbly eyes and the trail of water down his cheek felt strange but comforting to him. He was about to pour another glass before he heard three loud raps on the door.

"McCree It's Captain Amari, I tried to get Morrison to brief me on what exactly happened out there but he isn't exactly feeling talkative. Care to share?" "Yes ma'am," he yelled through the door, "I'll be out in a second" "Actually, since this is a rather private talk, and the briefing room is being used, I think I'd better come in." McCree looked around him, seeing discarded clothes on the floor, bottles of finished alcohol strewn across the room, and the bloodshot eyes of his reflection, he asked. "Can ya give me five minutes to clean up a bit ma'am?" "Nonsense, I know that Gabriel runs an awfully tight ship, so I'm sure it will be fine" she tried the handle, and upon seeing it locked, she told Athena to override it before opening the door and stepping in.

She was shocked at the sight, needless to say, but upon seeing his bloodshot eyes, she knew something was bad. He was sat on the bed, bottle of whiskey half full on his bedside table, along with five other empty ones. He clutched a glass tightly with one hand, and the peacekeeper in the other. It was pointed at the floor. She sat on the bed beside him and said gently to him "Okay, what happened out there?"

McCree thought it a miracle that Ana weren't yelling at him about standards of living and health and addiction issues, so when she asked what happened, he felt obliged to tell the truth. "Well, we got out to the warehouse, and saw Reyes tied to a chair in the centre of the factory. He wasn't moving so we checked everywhere else and found it deserted. We set him free when and I went to scout ahead 'cause I was feeling paranoid. Good job I did 'cause there was a whole fuckin' platoon comin' at us. I pegged it back to Reyes, Reinhardt and Morrison and ordered 'em to back up into a corner so they couldn't attack us without line of sight. Reinhardt shielded us while Morrison an' I took out the bad guys. We wiped out about three quarters of 'em before they turned tail. Then we made our way back to the ship and you'll know the rest."

Ana was silent for about a minute while she digested the information, before she looked at McCree and saying "You made a good tactical decision by using Reinhardt to protect you, but if the enemy blew up the entire warehouse, or launched an assault from the roof, you would have died. Morrison is far more equipped to make tactical decisions than you, so leave him to make his own decision." McCree's heart sank. He could clearly envision a suspension or a long series of lectures heading his way. "However," Ana continued "It's good that you showed the initiative, and the plan worked in the end. Anyway, would you care to tell me why your quarters are in such a state and why you've consumed more alcohol in an hour than I have in a year?" McCree pinched the skin between his eyebrows whilst looking at the floor in shame.

"Well ma'am, the easiest way for me t'deal with worry and sorrow is t'drown 'em in this stuff, and I confess that I ain't exactly the tidiest agent." Ana nodded in empathy as he explained, before getting up and starting to walk out. As she did, all she said was "If you're going to drown your sorrows, do it with someone else, it's a lot easier that way." And with that McCree was left to wonder if and who, as well as why he didn't get disciplined harder than a recruit in basic training.

After sitting on the bed with his thoughts for five minutes, he poured the rest of the whiskey down the basin, and walked outside, with four of the five glasses in his hands. He walked out of the base to the cliffs near the communication tower and Winston's lab, sat with his legs over the edge and puffed on a cigar. He dropped one of the glasses down the cliff. He heard the click of heels approaching him from behind, and turned his head to see who it was. It was the doc, with specks of blood on her gown, her hair tied up as always, and bags beneath her eyes. Somehow, she still managed to look like an angel.

"Hello Jesse, what are you doing out here?" she greeted him. "Just thinkin' 'bout Reyes, and tryin' not t'drown my sorrows." She grew a look of concern and sat down next to him, their feet dangling together over the edge of the cliff. The sun was starting to set, and it always made for a sensational as well as romantic view. She asked another question, "Did you not hear the news?" "Nah, had to debrief Captain Amari" "Well then, Reyes is now in a stable condition, but no visits are allowed until tomorrow."

A wave of relief washed over him, and suddenly he really started to feel the heat of the setting sun. He felt a sudden urge to wrap the good doctor in a hug, so he did. "Thank ye, Doc." He said while clasping her in his arms. After he released her she said "You've been drinking. You must stop that filthy habit, as well as the cigars." Her voice was stern, full of authority and an unwelcome surprise to McCree. "Aw, come on Doc, it was only t' take my mind off things, y'know?" "No I don't know Jesse, because I have never taken up a habit that will decrease my life expectancy by 30%" She took the cigar from his mouth, and chucked it over the cliff, along with the last glass. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to work." 'Never planned to live that long anyway' McCree thought to himself as he watched the Doctor stride off with a stiff back and ponytail swishing back and forth.

 **Angela's Perspective**

I had just finished a check-up on Reyes, and McCree's words came to my mind again. "I'm not letting yer look at any paper or patients till you've gotten yer rest." I don't know why he was having such a lasting effect on me, but I couldn't help it. At least he was right in what he said. Since I've slept more than 5 hours a night, I've gained my edge back and right when it was needed. Reyes was a truly difficult case, even with the caduceus staff. I had just exited the medical wing, and was on my way to see Winston when I saw McCree sitting at the cliff, cigar in his mouth and glasses by his side. I decided to check up on him.

When I sat down next to him, I saw that the sun was setting. A truly magnificent view, I hadn't seen it enough. He sat looking over the ocean, with his hat tipped at an angle so I could still see his face. The sun caught his bronzed skin wonderfully, and something flickered in my chest when I began to question him. He was having a bad spell, and it was obvious. His eyes were bloodshot and he had bags under his eyes. "Did you not hear the news?" "Nah had to debrief Captain Amari" His voice matched the setting suns, full of warmth and comfort, even when he was feeling crap. "

After I told him about the progress with Reyes, his face lit up, and he wrapped me in his strong, warm arms. I felt safe in them, and I had no doubt that I wanted to feel the embrace again. But I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and the musk of cigar smoke made me want to cough. I pushed him away. Then it occurred to me that he was a colleague, and I shouldn't be sharing close physical contact with him.

It took all my willpower, but I made my voice turn professional and I dismissed him by ridding him of his cigar and giving him a telling off over his bad habits. God knows how it wrenched my heart to do that to him. I probably appeared like a nagging mother to a teenager. But I am a professional doctor; I have no time for thoughts like that. I should get over him before it gets out of hand.


	6. A new bombshell

**McCree's Perspective**

Not much has happened since I got back from the mission a week ago. I've been spending most of my days in the range. I'm now second in the leaderboard, after Captain Amari. I can't wait for the look on Reyes face when he sees that I beat him. It'll be glee at first, when he sees Morrison in fourth, then shock when he sees himself in third.

But you can only shoot so many bullets here. They have a monthly limit, and I've gotten through the lot in four days. I need somethin' t'keep me entertained. I must say that doc's tellin' off has put me off alcohol and smokin' for the short term. Still, may as well get some grub.

Heading to the mess hall, McCree passed Morrison, and after giving him a respectful tip of the hat, sat down with a plate of Chilli Con Carne with peas and broccoli. He was just about to dive into the meal when he heard light footsteps patter up to him. He didn't look up, and stabbed his fork into the Chilli. He heard whoever it was sit down across from him, and waited for him to look up at them. He was just about to do so when a rather high pitched voice said "Hellooooo?"

He decided to keep his head down, but said "Howdy Miss Amari, how can I help you?" She was about to confront him, loudly hence why he kept his hat low over his face. 'Might encourage her to keep quiet' he thought to himself. His body language didn't convey the message loudly enough for the girl, so she started to speak to the whole room, so they could all hear and judge McCree for his actions. "You can start by telling me where you've been for the past two weeks!" she practically yelled the next part. "And then you can tell me why you haven't helped Angela out of her office for a week!" Reinhardt and Torbjorn, who were sitting next to each other across the mess hall, turned their heads toward the loud noise.

"Well," he responded "I was too busy tryin' to acquire a video of your karate exam, then I had a mission, then I was at the range. If y'needed me that badly, why didn't ya ask Athena?" he continued on before she could hammer more accusations at him "And the last time I saw the Doc, she threw my cigar and my favourite drinkin' glass over a cliff, so I'm perfectly content to let her work."

Fareeha, who was preparing another grilling to give him, let out a dismayed "Oh", still loud enough for the two agents across the hall to look back. "I didn't think about that. Besides, I did a Tae Kwon Do exam, not karate!" McCree let out a small laugh at that, and decided that he'd found his entertainment for now. He talked with her about the exam, which she aced, while he ate. When he finished, he decided that he would watch her practice some hand to hand combat.

They walked to the ring in a comfortable, content silence. Jesse took a seat on the floor while his meal was digesting as Fareeha set up the dummy she would be beating. She started slowly, making sure all her kicks and punches landed where they were intended to, before gradually speeding up. Within minutes, she was sweating, letting out huffs as her fists and feet pummelled the dummy as fast as they could. By the time she took a break, she had been constantly pushing herself for more than ten minutes.

"Good job, kiddo" said McCree as she stepped out of the ring, "But yer arms need to be extended more, and y'need t'stop lockin' yer knees when ya kick stuff. If ya do that in a fight you'll get a broken leg." He let her have five minutes before suggesting that she tried to land a blow on him, and that he wouldn't lay a finger on her. They stepped into opposite corners of the ring, before Fareeha dropped into a fighting stance. She raised her eyebrow when McCree didn't do the same, just left his arms by his sides with his back slightly arched. It was only when he said "C'mon then" that Fareeha spurred into action. She launched a roundhouse kick at him, that would have struck him in the ribcage had he not already moved out of the way. She tried again, but this time with a left hook aimed at his temple. He caught her fist, and then let it go with a cocky smile. She was starting to get frustrated. A frown creased her face as she launched a combo of blows at him, which he deftly sidestepped and blocked. She let out a small growl as she continued her assault, like she did with the dummy before, but McCree wouldn't let her through his guard. The one sided brawl continued for another 10 minutes, with Fareeha dripping with sweat. McCree looked exactly like he had in the mess hall, not even his hat had moved an inch. It ended when he caught a fist in one hand and a foot in the other, and said "let's call it a day for now, kiddo." She let out a huff of frustration before saying "You know, I'm the kid. You're meant to let me win!" "And how's that fair?" came the response.

He left her to shower, and departed her with a "Same again tomorrow?" He remembered her point of leaving the doc alone, and decided to pull her out of her work. He headed to the medical wing, and gave a nod to the receptionist, who gave him an icy stare. 'Charmin' he thought to himself. He arrived at the door to her office before taking a breath and walking in.

She looked up from the paperwork she was doing, and upon seeing it was McCree, said "Ah McCree, you've come for your check-up then." His heart sank. "Wait what?" she responded with "Did you not get my message?" he decided to give her the honest answer. "No, I came to get you out of here again." She appeared to think for about thirty seconds before saying "I'll make you a deal then, we do your check-up and then you get to drag me out of here." He clearly didn't want to go, the frown on his face made it painstakingly obvious, but he decided to do it anyway. "Alright doc, you got yerself a deal" "Alright then agent McCree, follow me please"

He followed her down the hall into a small room, a blinding white. It was so pristine that McCree had to blink a few times just to adjust to all the light reflecting off of the walls. His momentary stun over, he turned to see the doc sitting in a chair next to a laptop on a desk. "Could you please lie on the bed, and I will begin the scans." He hadn't realised there was a bed in the room, but it looked like something out of a dentist's chambers. "Sure thing" he replied, before carefully lowering himself onto the bed. It was slightly uncomfortable but he'd been sleeping in worse beds for pretty much his whole life.

"Now, I'm going to need you to remove any items of metal you have on you before I can begin." He began with his lighter and an empty hip flask, before moving onto his belt and holster, the glint of the BAMF buckle catching his eye as he set it down. He finished with his shoes, tugging them off and dropping them at the end of the bed. "Aight, y'should be good t'go doc" he said, hoping that these scans would be over quickly.

"Okay, now I need you to lie there without moving a muscle for fifteen minutes for the scan to be accurate. Can you do that?" Angela asked, her voice tired but professional. "Sure thing, ma'am" came the smooth response from McCree. Fifteen minutes of silence later, there was a loud beep, which signalled the scan finishing. He heard the laptop ding back in response, and waited for the doc to say something. There was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the whir of machinery.

He took it upon himself to get up and wake the doc, but upon seeing her head on the desk, breathing peacefully, he decided to let her sleep. He tried to think of a way to get her to her room without seeming suspicious or inappropriate. In the end he couldn't think of one, so he decided to carry her back to her quarter's bridal style, because it's a hell of a lot less revealing than a fireman's lift.

He had just exited the medical block, after receiving another ice cold glare from the receptionist. 'What does she have against me?' McCree thought to himself as he plodded forward, heading towards the main base. Albeit slow, McCree made it to the doc's quarters without any hassle. He was standing in front of her door, but it was locked. "Athena, could ya let us in please?" McCree pleaded. "You are not authorised to go into Dr. Zeigler's quarter's agent McCree, if you ask me again I will alert someone to escort you away." "Athena, have ya actually looked through the security camera and seen me? If y'haven't then y'should." McCree retorted. He heard an "oh dear" from the AI and the door clicked. He tried the handle and the door opened smoothly. "Thank ya darling" he told the AI before stepping inside.

The room was pretty much bare, other than a bed in the corner of the room and a desk with a mirror on top of it; it hadn't been altered in any way. She was too busy to do stuff like that, McCree realised while he set her down gently on the bed. He draped the covers over her and looked towards the desk. There was a photo from a Halloween party, along with people he had to assume were her parents and colleagues. He knew he shouldn't have, but he opened a drawer of the desk. What he saw shocked him.

The drawer revealed photos. From the Swiss countryside to the Zurich headquarters, almost everything was in there. It dawned on him that it was her equivalent of a memory box. He rifled through them all, some making him smirk. There was one of Morrison pulling a face with Reyes, while Reinhardt looked on in the background, his smile as warm and large as the sun itself. However, when he got to the last photo, McCree jaw nearly dropped. It was of him. Why on earth did the good doctor have a photo of him? He turned it over, to find the word Someday written with a love heart drawn next to it.

Stunned, he dropped the cards in the drawer, and walked out. Once he left her room, he rubbed his eyes and went to get a drink. He always did after finding a bombshell like that.


	7. Recovery

He went and retrieved a glass from the mess hall, since his had been chucked off a cliff, and headed back to his quarters. The whiskey felt hot in his throat, and he was glad for it, the alcohol providing a comfort to him that emotions couldn't. The walk to the mess hall had been straightforward, with no one else in there, but it felt longer than it was. His mind was whirring at a thousand miles a minute, and it wasn't because a maths problem had him stumped. 'What did the doc mean by someday?' 'Why does she have that photo?' 'How long has she had it?' 'Why has she got it?' but there was one question in particular that kept finding its way back to the front of his thoughts, 'What will I do about it?'

He couldn't find an answer for it, so he just decided to make do with the numbness brought by alcohol and its pleasures. He sat on his bed, glass in hand and bottle on the bedside table, his eyes staring a hole into the floor. He didn't train Fareeha the next day, or the day after, simply because he didn't leave his room. It was only when Fareeha asked Angela where McCree was that anyone other than her had noticed he'd gone.

McCree awoke with a blistering headache, his clothes still on and loud thumping at the door. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled into the bathroom, shutting the door. He heard the shrill voice of the Doc shout through the door. "McCree, you still haven't come out so I'm sending Reinhardt in." The he heard the deep baritone of the German giant count down. "3, 2, 1, I'm coming in!" The door flew off its hinges, and would have landed on the bed with a dull thump had Reinhardt not kept a tight hold of the handle. "All yours Angela" he said cheerfully before going back to the gym. The man was fitter than most athletes, let alone people his own age.

McCree simply stayed in the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes as quickly as he could before stepping into the shower and turning it on. It was cold at first, jolting him awake so he was fully aware of what was going on, before warming up into hot, wet heaven.

 **Angela's Perspective**

As I walked into the cowboy's room, the first thing I did was cough. The smoke from his cigars was overwhelming, choking any oxygen in the room. After I recovered I saw the state of his room. A bottle of alcohol on the bedside table, with a solitary glass; his room was somewhat homely, with a few lamps providing a cosy warmth, and his desk was covered with a few sheets of paperwork. Then the shower came on.

Since McCree was in the shower, I knew that I had some time to wait for him to come out. He evidently knew I was here, so unless he had no common sense, he wouldn't come back out here stark naked. I knew that I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself from sitting at his desk and reading through the paperwork. It was from a medical check-up, his most recent. I feel myself blush as I remember I passed out before finishing. Considering what he had to do to get me out of my office, he evidently wasn't going to give me more work to do, so it isn't surprising that he kept the paperwork from me. I couldn't help myself. I picked up a pen and filled out the forms in record time.

I opened up a drawer, only to find it empty. I was snooping now, and I knew it. If he caught me I'd be in big trouble. Closing that one I opened another, to find it stuffed full of little boxes with ammunition for his revolver. I opened the last drawer, and found a solitary sheet of lined paper, filled out with his drunken scrawl of handwriting. It looked chaotic, as it was covered in questions, all in different sizes and angles. They varied from "Why does she have it?" to "How long has she had it?" to "What did she mean?" it was very intriguing, but I couldn't make any sense of it. All his questions brought about questions of my own. "Who was she? What does she have? What did she mean?" all this was running through my head before I spotted a question written in tiny handwriting, and a line thoroughly put through it. Somehow I could still decipher the scrawl beneath the scribble. It said: "What should I do?"

As I was pondering this, I heard the shower turn off and McCree stumble around in the bathroom. He was probably getting dressed. I hurriedly put the sheet back in the drawer, and shut it quietly. I got out of his desk chair, and had just found a spot on his bed as the bathroom door turned and McCree stepped out.

Unlike my prediction, he wasn't fully clothed, but wrapped a towel about his lower half while leaving his bronzed pectorals exposed for the whole of his bedroom to see. I was fortunate enough to be in that bedroom. I pushed that line of thought aside before I saw that he was about to speak. "Howdy Doc." He said, his accented voice swirling like honey. "Sorry fer not answerin' ya, but I was gettin' ready for a shower" I decided to go on the offensive. "For fifteen minutes? Reinhardt broke your door down, which is an unnecessary bill for us. Could you not at least have shouted through? Besides, your room is a state! I can barely breathe there's so much smoke in here, let alone the fact that you've been in here for at least two days. Could you have not have tidied up or were you too drunk to do that?" The words left her mouth like daggers, and embedded themselves into McCree's ears.

"Why did you lock yourself in here anyway? It was only because Fareeha complained that you didn't train her that anybody noticed that you'd left!" as the doctor had been scolding him, McCree held up his hands until the mention of Fareeha, where a frown creased his face and he hurriedly pulled on some clothes. "Speakin' of, I need t'apologise and train the little monkey." It was a cheap way to get out of the telling off, and I was having none of it. "Oh, no you don't mister!" I yelled as I walked over to the door that Reinhardt had carefully set against the doorframe, blocking the way out with my body. "Go on then, answer my question! Why did you stay in here?"

 **McCree's Perspective**

She stood by what used to be the door, face red from shouting too much and demanding an answer from me. A sticky situation indeed, but I know for a fact that I'd gotten out of worse before. I decided that the best way to get out of it was to play the morals card. The doc had millions of them after all. "Well, I was feelin' a bit down cause someone I know might have a crush on me, but I don't know if it's true or not. That and the fact that she doesn't know that I know is quite the secret t'be carryin' around." McCree looked down as he continued. "It's like one of them cheesy soaps that Lena watches - all petty drama. Still all I can do is sit and mope, because she's way out of my league, let alone that she's way too busy to be a girlfriend." He looked back up to Angela, eyes slightly puffy. "But y'know, it ain't all bad. I still got Fareeha and yourself t'look after."

She smiled at the reference to Lena. Then I could have sworn that she watched those soaps too, because she came and sat on the bed with me, and decided to give me a hug. It caught me by surprise, how she could go from madder than a whipped bull to sympathetic as a cow in the space of a second. It seemed that playing on her morals had worked. Hopefully it threw her off the track that it was her that I was talking about. As she gripped me tightly, we both eased back onto the bed, and it ended up with her head on my chest, and my gently stroking the back of her head. I don't know why I did that, but it felt nice. After about two minutes of that, I remembered my promise to train Fareeha, and a man never goes back on his word. I slid her gently off of me, and she gave me a confused look. "Gotta keep ma word t'Fareeha!" I walked out of my room, and noticed a written note of apology from Reinhardt pinned to the side of the empty doorframe. I'd read that later, but I had to get to Fareeha before she had her mother take my head off.

 **Angela's Perspective**

I followed him out of the room, but he didn't even say goodbye. He just left me to my thoughts, which, unfortunately for him, were busy trying to figure out who this mystery girl was.


	8. Returning

**Angela's Perspective**

I had been busy with work recently, which distracted me from the mystery of McCree's woman. How tempting it's been to tell Lena, and we'll work on the mystery together, but it occurred to me that McCree himself might not like that.

I had been in my office for most of the day, sending emails back and forth to colleagues from around the world. There had been a peculiar case from the Falkland Islands, where a small boy had been exploring a part of the island that he shouldn't have, and had his legs blown off by an ancient landmine. I was sent images of the remains of the landmine and started to do some research. It looked to be as old as the conflict between Britain and Argentina in a dispute over who owned the islands. That was over a century ago. Unusual enough that an explosive as old as that still worked, let alone that the boy said he only did it because he thought he saw a concrete doorway in the grassy hills of the island.

The doctor had requested advice on how much anaesthetic to use, which was seemingly obvious enough to anyone with any common sense, but he was young and probably wanted to clarify before finding his patient awake and screaming in agony whilst having a prosthetic fitted. I responded with a quick message saying: enough so he'll be out cold for seven hours, so about 94 milligrams. Then a thought came to me. No one had ever chased up on why Gabriel was in the Falkland Islands, injured and in a warehouse. McCree, Morrison and Reinhardt were the ones who recovered him, but upon seeing the state he was in, I knew I should have been there to help.

So, I decided to have a talk with Commander Reyes. As I left the medical wing, I gave the receptionist a small smile, and I received a nod, smile and wave in return. It didn't take me long to find him, as the gym is right next to the medical wing. He was on a treadmill with wireless headphones on, but he slipped them off and they settled on his neck and shoulders. He kept running. "Do you have a moment for me to ask you some questions Commander?" I asked. He stopped the treadmill, and it slowly worked to a halt, forcing his muscles to cool down from the Aerobic exercise. "Sure, but I need to ask you something in return" he replied, whilst stepping off of the treadmill. "So, what was it?" he said, prompting me to continue.

"As you know, we had to recue you from the Falkland Islands not too long ago, but no one has seemed to question why you were there. So that's my question, why were you in the Falkland Islands?" He let out a small 'Humph' before saying, "It's a long explanation, and not one for the middle of the gym. Walk with me; we'll go to my office." He set off, and I took a few quick steps to catch up to him before we fell into stride together. "I'd heard some rumours about the old omnium in the Falklands. It was based in a bunker from a war before either of us existed." I couldn't help myself from interrupting. "The Falklands war of 1982?" He looked bemused, as if he was surprised that I knew about it. "Yes, the British built the bunker in secret after they retook Stanley from the Argentine invasion. Anyway, the Brits wanted more than one omnium, which was foolish of them. But they decided to put another one in said bunker. I had some reports of activity from Blackwatch intelligence, so decided to investigate. However, the bunker was in an off limits area to the public – and for good reason. There were omnics there."

I let out a gasp. An omnium was back in action? That most definitely was not good. Gabriel let that sink in for a minute or so before I asked "Well what will we do about it?" He gave me a slight shrug before telling me "We do nothing, it hasn't killed everyone on the islands, so there is no danger. I will put sensors around the place so we know if anything's going on." "When will you do that?" I asked. We had reached the door of his office. He said that he was leaving with McCree tomorrow, before turning into his office and closing the door behind him.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to get my head around the conversation. It was a lot to take in for such a short amount of time. Eventually I made my way back to my office, but instead of getting my head down and working, I let myself think. Unfortunately, my mind quickly led me to the subject of the gunslinger. I couldn't stop thinking about trying to sneak into his room while he was away, and finding more clues to the mystery. I shouldn't be having these thoughts... I'm a professional medic; I shouldn't be following the trail of a renegade cowboy to find out about his love life! I shook myself, and decided to take a break before I started having inappropriate thoughts.

I left my office half an hour later, having done absolutely no work. I found myself wondering the base aimlessly, and ended up outside, my feet dangling off the edge of the cliff, the very place where I hugged the cowboy. The view was astounding, even in the daytime. I could just make out the tip of Africa over the channel of sparkling blue, the sun blazing down on my skin. Peaceful as it was, I was fighting a losing battle inside. I simply couldn't keep Jesse out of my mind. My fight was over, and I let myself fall into the warm embrace of him. I remembered his smell when I grasped him, even through the stench of smoke and alcohol, he still smelt faintly of spice, whether it was that or the smoke that tickled my nose, I didn't know or care. As I reminisced in the memories, I failed to notice the familiar clink in the cowboy's spurs, or the stench of drink and smoke that follows him.

 **McCree's Perspective**

I had just been briefed by Gabriel about how I'd have to go back to the Falkland's to plant some cameras or some shit. I was wondering to go find Fareeha and tell her, when I stumbled across the Doc sitting by the cliff, just like I was after my first time there. She didn't turn around as I approached, and she jumped as I took a load off beside her. "Howdy Doc," I said as I sat down, once again allowing my legs to dangle off of the cliff. "McCree..." she said gently, before lowering her head onto my shoulder. I was slightly taken aback, but decided to roll with it. "Better make the most of this while ya can Doc, I'm back out to the Falklands soon." "I know" was the response. Her voice was heavy, and it was clear enough that something was wrong, and she'd had a bad day because of it. "Well now, what's made you grouchier than me in the midst of a hangover?" I questioned. "A long story. One I'll tell you after your mission." She seemed to come back to her senses as she jolted upright, and nearly whipped me with that ponytail of hers. She was about to apologise for acting so unprofessionally, and we both knew it. Somehow I was reading her mind like it was a good old hardback book. "No need t'apologise Doc; I'm here if ya need a shoulder to cry on." She was stunned. Sure, maybe I was being a little bit forward, but no harm came of it. "Thank you, McCree" she said "But I just realised that I have urgent work that needs to be attended to. Good Luck with your mission." Maybe not so forward next time. She left me, with my legs dangling over a cliff and my mission looming.

I soaked in the view for another 5 minutes, before starting to prepare. It doesn't take me long to get ready for a mission, I'm already wearing my Blackwatch uniform and if my gun is more than five feet away from me then I'm dead. All I really needed to do was go down to Torbjorn's cavern, or the barracks as everyone else calls them, grab some more ammo, and get some food in me. There was a macaroni cheese in the mess hall, so I demolished half of it in about five minutes, before heading to the dropship. Unsurprisingly, Reyes was already there with his signature scowl covering his face. "Come on, let's go" he growled. I made my way up the ramp and sat down on a bench. There was a bottle on the table in front of me and it took all of my willpower not to take a swig. Reyes was staring at me. Normally I wouldn't be bothered about it, but I could feel the intensity from the other side of the ship. He was challenging me, daring me to take a sip. I decided not to give him the satisfaction of yelling at me, so just stared right back at him. After about a minute, I took the bottle, stood up and walked across to him, and sat down a seat away from him. I extended my arm sideways, before saying: "Y'look like y'need this boss, what's botherin' ya?"

He looked at me for a moment. His gaze pierced into mine, trying to read as to whether I was joking around. He was definitely getting angrier more frequently, but even after talking with the other Blackwatch agents, no-one could figure out what it was. After he was done staring at me, his eyes softened and he looked at his shoes. "It's Morrison." He said, clenching his fists. Even talking about it made him angry... "He keeps on bossing me around, telling me what to do with Blackwatch and how he is going to make Overwatch look great next. He's always exploited us, and he's forgotten how much he needs us for the dirty work. I'm tempted to just not do what he says, but I actually care for some people in that damned organisation. I'll see if I can make them see sense and join Blackwatch, then I can get the recognition we all deserve." As he spoke he got angrier, so I decided to change the topic, and focus on the mission ahead. "Look boss, you're clearly sittin' on a few things, but how about we forget them for a while and focus on the mission." He nodded and opened a document with some maps in it.

I hadn't realised how much hatred Gabriel held in him, but now I know that some shit is gonna hit the fan, I need to brace myself for that. I grabbed some objects that Gabriel held out to me. "Right," he said, his previous rant forgotten, "you need to stick those into the ground here, here and there" he was pointing at some places on the map. "Pretty simple mission boss" I spoke my thoughts aloud. "Nothing is simple when there's an active omnium involved" was his reply. My head snapped up from the map and I stared at him, trying not to letting my worry show. He continued to brief me on the omnium until I saw the enormity of the task I faced...


	9. The Omnium

**McCree's Perspective**

My face was a deadpan as I got out of the ship. The mission ahead was all that concerned me; I'd hooked the four little black boxes into my utility belt, just next to the signature BAMF buckle. I kept my hat low over my head, and immediately headed out of town, toward a grass covered hillside. It struck me that an omnium could be hiding in something so natural looking. I placed my first box on the perimeter of the omnium. As I bent down to secure it, I heard the heavy clunk of a battle ready omnic. I whirled around, peacekeeper already out of its holster and my eye lined down the trusty old iron sights...

At first I saw nothing, so I drew my eyes away from the sights and studied the climate, looking for any oddity. Then I spotted it. A metal box approaching from the horizon, I could make out the red of its 'eyes' from here. I lined up the sight of my revolver, knowing that I'd nailed smaller targets from longer distances than this. But I didn't pull the trigger. I waited to see more omnics appear from over the horizon, but none came. This bot must be a sentry, checking for any disturbances. I already knew how I was going to deal with it: hide until it gets close, if it discovers you riddle it with more holes than Swiss cheese. So I lay in the grass, hoping that the black of my uniform helped disguise me in the light of dawn. The omnic walked to within 15 feet of me, and adrenaline started to fill my veins. I forced myself to stay static, knowing that if I moved now I'd have to drop the omnic quicker than it could drop me. All of a sudden it stopped, turned 90 degrees and continued on its march. By tracing the path it took, I knew where the omnium would take note of my presence. So far it wasn't aware of me, but that was about to change...

After the sentry had trudged its way over the horizon, I dropped into a low crouch and made my way into the seemingly empty field ahead of me. I took my time, making sure to stay as quiet as possible. Eventually I made it to the other end of the field, and after climbing over a gate, saw sand dunes. I placed another box down next to the gate. The dirt beneath me slowly turned to sand, grass turned into reeds. The wind had picked up and was beginning to howl. The slope of the dune before had dramatically steepened, making progress slow. When I reached the top, the sight that beheld me was not a pleasant one. The Beach curved round, its sand a dull yellow. I could clearly see the print of omnic footsteps from my vantage point. The sea reflected the sky, a dark grey that threatened me with an endless downpour. I made my way down the dune, towards the beach. When I was halfway down I planted my third box. When I stepped onto the beach, I made sure to only step inside omnic prints, so there would be no sign that a human had visited this death trap.

As I was following the prints, I heard the telltale sound of an industrial door opening. I turned 90 degrees, and there it was. Embedded in a hill that was only visible due to a dip in the dunes. A circular door and it was opening. Two giant sheets of metal slid away to reveal a patrol of omnics, armed to the teeth. I ducked away, not giving a thought to my footprints anymore. I made my way back up a dune, toward the door in the hillside. I managed to slip past the omnics by diving into a bush as they passed me. I was in the clear. As I made my way towards the door, I saw Reyes standing atop the hill the omnium was embedded in. I managed to signal that it was below him with some improvised hand gestures. He responded by putting a box down on top of the hill and heading back to the ship. For an omnium, it wasn't guarded at all. No camera's as far as I knew, no omnics permanently posted by the door, no automated machine gun turrets. So I just waltzed right up and planted my box right outside the door. Then I strolled off without incident or worry, as I saw the mangled body of the sentry sparking in the grass. Reyes had evidently taken it down. As I entered the dropship, Reyes gave me a nod before saying "Good job out there. You put the boxes as shown on the map I trust" "Sure did boss" I replied. And then Reyes pulled out a detonator, pushed the button and listened for the low boom of the explosion. But he did it too early. The ship dipped dramatically to the right, and if I wasn't strapped in I know that I'd have been badly injured. "Our right engine is down, so either we get a parachute and bail, or die." Our pilot yelled. We made our way into the cockpit, and found four parachutes. I slipped on mine before helping the pilot into his. I made sure not to look out of the windows. "Lower the cargo door and we'll bail out of that" Reyes yelled. The pilot hit a button and all of a sudden the roar of the wind filled our ears. We made our way towards the cargo bay, hands gripping the banister for dear life. We stood next to the door, and prepared to bail. The pilot went first, followed by myself and then Reyes. All of a sudden the wind was roaring in my ears, louder than anything I'd ever known. It was ripping at any exposed skin, pushing it back. I ignored it. I counted to three in my head, and then braced myself as I opened the chute. I pulled the cord and got yanked back with brutal force. Below me I could see the canopy of the pilots chute. What was above me wasn't my concern. I had a clear view of the island, so I tried to pick a landing spot.

The only thing that wasn't covered in flames or craters was the beach. We were evidently landing back at the omnium. When my feet hit the sand I crumpled. I waited for thirty seconds before shrugging the parachute off and standing up. The pilot was about thirty yards away for me, and Reyes had just landed between us. I started to pack my chute away, after noting that Reyes was doing the same. After I finished I made my way over to where the pilot and Reyes were standing. "Sure hope there ain't no radioactive stuff around" I said. The pilot had a worried look on his face, but he was holding together. Reyes snapped into action. "Right, we need to get back to civilisation, so we'll head to the town and catch a boat to Argentina, and then a plane to the Swiss HQ.

"Why can't we just get Morrison to send us another dropship?" I asked. "He won't spare valuable Overwatch resources on an organisation like Blackwatch, we're expendable to him" Reyes replied, anger becoming apparent as he spoke, through his clenched fists and teeth. And at that we set off.

 _Author's Note: A bit of a shorter chapter this time around, but I wanted to get this out for you guys. Thanks again for the attention and support,_ mr.a305.


	10. Realisation

**McCree's Perspective**

The boat wasn't going to arrive until tomorrow, so we hunkered down in a barn for the night. Reyes had withdrawn some cash from the bank earlier in the day, so we could buy our tickets to board the ferry. He also went and bought us some sandwiches and bottles of water to keep us energised, which was the kindest thing he's ever done for me. Unless sparing my life counts...

After resting on a hay bale all day, we set off to the port, which was 15 minutes away. The weather was overcast, with grey clouds stretching endlessly in every direction. As we walked, people kept on giving us strange looks. I was more than used to it, with my attire and all. Reyes and the pilot however, just stared right back at them, daring them to challenge us. It was something I used to do when I was with Deadlock.

We arrived at the port when the boat was a speck in the distance, and found a bench until it docked. We boarded with ease and found ourselves at the stern of the boat, looking at the dull grey sea. The colour dominated almost everything: the sky, the sea, the boat. It was a rather depressing scene, I found myself thinking whilst a thousand mile stare flew over my features.

It was gonna be a long trip back home...

 **Angela's Perspective**

'Shit!' was the word that flew into my head when I found out that Reyes, McCree and one other Blackwatch agent hadn't arrived back at base a full day and night after their ship disappeared from our radar. The protocol was to shift their status to Missing in Action, but instead Morrison has decided to suspend Blackwatch activities, on the grounds that they had no active leader.

There have been mixed opinions about the decision within the members of Overwatch, with members like Torbjorn expressing glee, since they hadn't trusted Blackwatch from the beginning. But members like Lena, Reinhardt and I questioning the decision, because we'd seen the effectiveness of Blackwatch first hand. We would have been killed at Kings Row if it wasn't for McCree.

There he was again. I just cannot seem to get the damned cowboy off my mind. But underneath the worries I had, I saw an opportunity to find out who his mystery woman was. I'd simply judge how everyone reacted whilst McCree remained missing. I could already rule out Lena, Fareeha and me, as he'd already said it was his job to look after us.

With a plan forming in my mind, I decided to let my work consume me once more. It blocks out any worries I have. As I headed back to the medical wing, I caught a glimpse of Fareeha running in there ahead of me. As I entered my office, she was sitting in my chair. Her chin was a few inches above the surface of the desk, but her face was plastered with worry. She looked like she could burst into tears at any moment. I took the seat opposite my own, taking the place where the patient would be sitting in any other situation. I decided to let her speak first. "Why aren't you worried about McCree?" she demanded. "And why didn't you tell me that he was missing?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry about him. I'm not worried about him because I know he can look after himself" I answered honestly.

( _Authors Note: For those that listen to music while reading, I wrote the rest of Angela's Perspective whilst listening to Mombasa by Hans Zimmer. It featured in the movie Inception and I think it has a great effect if you listen to it while reading_ )

"That's the wrong answer!" She practically screamed. "You were meant to say that you were worried about McCree because he's handsome and clever and awesome! And then he would come back and give you a hug, and he's go back to training with me!" With her outburst over, Fareeha slumped over the desk and started sobbing. My heart wrenched. Empathy overcame me as I imagined how hard it must be to grow up within Overwatch, and the closest thing to a father figure she had was Reinhardt, or McCree... The man seemed to have a way with her, whenever she was upset by something, he would simply take her into the sparring ring and not five minutes later they would come out, Fareeha beaming with happiness and McCree with an arrogant smirk across his face. Reinhardt had once asked him how he did it, but he revealed nothing.

A tidal wave of realisation came over me as I realised that me and Fareeha weren't so different. She needed him to act like a father figure, to help out when the going got tough for her. And I needed him to drag me away from my work, to give me a social life outside of Overwatch. We both needed the cowboy in our lives, or they would be dramatically worsened.

Then there was the doubt, the angst and the nervousness one feels when someone you know and love has disappeared without trace. Was he okay? Where is he now? How is he feeling? Will he come back? The questions drew my mind back to the piece of paper in his desk drawer, covered in similar questions, but about a different subject. My mind, being a scientific one, immediately tried to link the two thoughts together, and came up with a question.

'Does McCree feel like me and Fareeha do, like we all need each other in our lives?'

This must have been very strange for Fareeha, who had just stared at me, dumbfounded, while I strode about the room in my thoughts. "Come with me!" I said, grasping her wrist and leading out of the door and through the exit of the medical block. We broke out into a run, leaving several confused agents in our wake. We stopped outside the recently fixed door to McCree's room. "Athena, I need access to agent McCree's quarters immediately!" I said, in the voice of a medical professional fighting against death itself to save a patient. The AI didn't question me, and the lock of the door clicked. I burst into the room, a light dust coating everything in the room since its owner had abandoned it. I reached into the drawer of the desk, and grasped the piece of paper like it was the Holy Grail itself. This was the key to unlocking the mystery of McCree's thoughts and emotions.

My eyes scanned over the mess of ink embedded on the paper. "Why does she have it?", "How long has she had it?" to "What did she mean?" and my eyes finally settled on "What should I do about it" My mind was racing with ideas and possibilities, but nothing would come of it. So I took the piece of paper and went to my own room, with Fareeha following close behind. We arrived quickly; it was only down the hall, after all. We sat on my bed, and I went back to staring at the paper.

"Are you having a breakthrough?" she asked.

"Yes, and it's about McCree. Not his location or anything, but about how he feels" I responded. She remained by my side, but went silent to allow me to continue to brainstorm. I looked up from the paper, and noticed something unusual. The drawer in my desk had marks in the dust that covered it. I opened the drawer to find that somebody had rifled through my photo collection. I inwardly groaned, as I knew then that somebody had seen the photo of McCree that I kept. I won't deny that I used to feel things towards him, but since developing the Valkyrie Suit had become a priority; those feelings were lost in my work. I racked my brains as to who would have been through my room; any of the three commanders, a fellow doctor perhaps? Then, like a bolt of lightning, it came to me. McCree himself had dropped me off here after I fell asleep in his medical exam. He'd evidently written the piece of paper in my hand to help deal with his emotions. I'd found all the pieces and solved the mystery. But what was I going to do with the information I'd just learned?

I called over Fareeha and spun the story to her. After I'd finished I asked her, a child, what to do. She replied with the most mature, reassuring answer I could have heard.

"If you think you still feel something for him, you should give him a chance. If you don't, explain to him that the whole thing was a misunderstanding, and continue as you have been." I swept the girl up into a hug. That was before she said, "We've got to go and find him first though" at which point I placed her back on the ground and asked to meet with Captain Amari.

 **McCree's Perspective**

The boat had finally arrived at Tierra del Fuego, and the three of us walked to the town centre. We arrived at a notice-board with a picture of the town as it was a century ago. It was just a solitary house back then, squatted against the forces of nature at the 'end of the earth'. It had since developed into a small, weather worn town. There was a map of the town that signalled where we could hire a car. As we made our way there, we passed several locals, but unlike Stanley, no one stared at us. No one even smiled. They just kept their heads down and walked.

We made it to the car hire, but weren't greeted with a pleasant sight. There was a small car park with a solitary car parked in it. And boy, was it an old car. It wasn't any of the hover cars that you see in any major city across the globe, the damn thing was grounded. There was an unrecognisable badge on the back, but the writing on the reverse of the car identified it as a Mustang. The paint was a faded orange, with spots of rust coming through. Reyes entered a small cabin and starting to speak with the man inside. After about five minutes he came out with a set of keys, and told us to climb in. "Who's drivin'?" I asked.

"You" he replied, "but we take ten hour shifts when we drive. When we need to switch, we also take the opportunity to take a leak and grab a snack. The thing's so old that it runs on petroleum, which means we take our fuel in jerry cans, stored in the trunk and backseat."

"Sounds good, but do we have enough fuel to get us to Buenos Aires?" I asked. Reyes proceeded to open the boot, which was filled to the brim with bright yellow jerry cans. "Alright then, seems like we got ourselves a road trip boys" I said, while grinning. Reyes just let out a scowl, and the pilot just nodded before climbing into the backseat.

It took a while to get used to, but I'd come to love the Mustang. The machine gave a deep, throaty roar every time I stamped the accelerator, and handled like a dream compared to the hover cars that everyone else uses. Directions were easy enough; all you had to do was follow the highway until you saw signs for Buenos Aires. But while enjoyable, the drive was also exhausting. By the end of my shift I managed to stumble out of the car, walk about 15 metres on aching joints, take a leak and walked back to the car before being handed a bottle of water by Reyes. During the time that I had been driving, I'd used up most of the jerry cans on the backseat. I tossed them up onto the shelf behind the headrests before lying down across the both backseats. I placed my hat on my and started to drift off to sleep.


End file.
